In Flavor Of Turkey

For me, Thanksgiving just isn’t Thanksgiving without turkey. Valentine’s Day can have chocolate. I won’t begrudge Easter its ham. I’ll readily admit Christmas and fruitcakes go hand-in-hand (such a double meaning here…). What I will NOT do is forgo that big fat juicy bird on the fourth Thursday of November.

Honestly, I feel the same way about Christmas. So strongly, in fact, that my disappointment is palpable when I learn that we’ll be having some sub-par beef dish or even lobster. Those two holidays just seem fowl (I crack myself up!) without the bird. I mean, even Ben Franklin thought turkey better represented American values than the bald eagle.

… And I value turkey. So when I prepared my first Thanksgiving dinner some two decades ago, I hoped to do it justice.

That meal brings back fond memories. It was the first in a long tradition of inviting those with nowhere else to go into my home to celebrate together. I had a small two-bedroom apartment in Lansing, Mich., where I was going to school at the time. My alternate dad – Don – was there. He’s since passed, so the memory is even more precious.

Here’s the thing … stuff went wrong. REALLY wrong. I’d never prepared such a big meal, and thus my timing was way off. I forgot to start the potatoes or I cooked them to smithereens (I can’t remember which). I used cranberry sauce from a can. I prepared the gravy in a Pyrex bowl on top of my gas stove (you can imagine where I’m going with this, sadly.) It exploded, sending shards of glass and splatters of turkey-flavored napalm in every direction. That sent me to the floor, bawling. I was crushed, thinking everything was ruined.

What’s turkey without gravy? Oh, the horror of it all.

Don didn’t dare laugh at the hysterical scene. He just put his arm around me and told me it would all be fine. He dried my tears, tucking tendrils of gravy-coated hair behind my ear, and then turned to wipe away the gravy dripping from cupboard doors and walls alike. It wasn’t until I pulled that perfect, deliciously brown and juicy turkey out of the oven that I realized two things. The first? I make damn good turkey.

The second lesson was more important (you can revel in the former through the recipe below!) Don was right: No matter how much gravy goes flying, or how bad the potatoes are or phenomenal the turkey is … it’s not about the food. It’s about the people sitting next to you. Turkey may be synonymous with Thanksgiving, but it isn’t what the day is about. It’s about what you’re most thankful for. For me, it’s about you.

Thanks for pulling a chair up to the We The Eaters table and joining us on this adventure. With Adam’s and my wedding, it was easy to let our blog baby’s one year anniversary slip right by … but it didn’t go unnoticed. We owe everything to our Eaters, those of you who read and those of you who write about your culinary adventures with us. We are so grateful for our community and hope you’ll continue to share your time and talent in the future.

Here’s hoping you and yours had a wonderful Thanksgiving Day.

 

Amy’s (Not Nearly Famous Enough) Herbed Turkey Roast

Recipe adapted from Hospitality: A Cookbook Celebrating Boston’s North Shore, which was one of my first cookbooks and a gift from my daddy, who also inspired my turkey-cooking secrets. This recipe is sufficient for a 20-pound bird.

Before you get started, get the best bird you can afford. Here are some tips. WTE is all about free range, organic when possible and no antibiotics. We wanted a fresh turkey this year, but, alas, our source fell through. I’ll try again next year, but in the meantime settled on a local Maryland farm that hits all those marks but organic and sells at Whole Foods.

Now … a turkey unbrined is a turkey pining for it. Consider it an insurance policy. You are going to cook the damn thing all day … and forecasts say chances for a dry bird are high. Making sure you cook to the right internal temperature will help, and so will giving your bird a nice long bath. The Pioneer Woman has some great tips, but this year, I just used a mix from Williams Sonoma, adding apple cider and beer. I started soaking mine Tuesday night.

Remove turkey from brine, wash and pat dry. Season the cavity with salt and pepper. You can simply stuff with chopped apple, onion and celery, or … stuffing. I’ve always stuffed the bird. But the controversy swirling about whether this is OK suddenly has me rethinking. It’s a food safety issue, and our lovely partner Eater, April, is a stickler for erring on the side of caution at WTE. I’ve thus decided not to stuff my turkey this year. This is the article that changed my mind. That just leaves one question — since I’m not cooking it in the bird, is it “stuffing” … or “dressing”?

What really sets my turkey apart is the herb mixture. Here’s the recipe:

Amy’s Herbed Turkey Baste

1 stick butter, softened
1 5-ounce package Boursin cheese (I used garlic and herb), softened
1/4 cup cognac
1/2 cup fresh herbs, chopped (I use sage, rosemary and thyme)
1/4 cup shallot, chopped fine
4-6 cloves garlic, chopped fine

Mix thoroughly and put in a plastic Ziploc-style bag. Chill. Roll up your sleeves — this next part can get messy. Starting at the cavity opening, gently separate the skin from the meat. You’ll basically be running your fingers under the skin, working around the contours of the turkey toward the neck to loosen the skin from the breast. Be very careful not to tear the skin. If there is a pop-up thermometer, you’ll want to remove that and be very careful in that area.

Next, check the herb mix. It should be stiff, but not hard. Think frosting consistency — spreadable, not runny. Cut the tip off one end of the bag and stick it under the skin a few inches. Squeeze out about one-quarter of the mixture. Working on top of the skin, spread the mixture out under the breast by pushing it into place with your fingers. It should slide easily under the skin. Squeeze out more mix until one side is completely coated. Repeat on the other side. You can replace that thermometer if you like, or get a real one. I love the new All Clad one we got for our wedding, but having one you can read outside the oven is awesome. And here is a chart on cooking times.

Now you’re ready to roast. Here’s my next secret: Start upside down. The dark meat is always ready before the white, which I find incredibly unfair. It’s my favorite part, you see. If you cook a turkey long enough for the dark meat to get thoroughly cooked, the white meat will be dry. So … I roast my bird for the first hour on its belly. Here’s a great tutorial.

About that skin: If you want it nice and crispy, you might want to check out Alton Brown’s tips. I wasn’t sure how this would work with inverting. After flipping the bird (man, I crack myself up), I added a healthy coating of butter and hoped for the best. It came out perfect. I also agree with Brown’s tips on basting: You don’t need to bother. It is a pain in the butt, it lets heat out and you’ve already abused the crap out of that bird to make it taste so good — so what’s the point? Just let it be.

Once you remove your masterpiece from the oven, let it sit for 20 minutes before carving it. That will prevent the juices you’ve so meticulously worked to keep in the bird from disappearing in a disappointing ball of steam.

And, finally … enjoy.

 

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Posted in Savory

Zwei: German Soft Pretzels — Knot Your Average Dough

When my mom would take me to the Bäckerei (bakery) in the little town we lived in when I was just a toddler, the baker would give me one giant (to me, anyway) pretzel for each of the five fingers on my outstretched hand.

Which is really just to say: I have never not known the deliciousness of soft pretzels. They have forever been a part of my existence and to see them piled in a basket with a little jar of honey or sweet butter is to know I am home.

Before we came back to live in the States, my mom managed to convince Jakob, the baker in Öschingen (that little village where my grandmother was born) to share his recipe for the amazing soft pretzels he so dutifully baked daily for the villagers.

We have continued to make these at home over the years, mostly around Christmastime. Be forewarned: They are a little bit of an undertaking. As my mom and I were baking them together this time around, she wondered aloud, “How Jakob baked enough to meet the demands of a small village before most people were awake is beyond me!” You’ll also need to plan ahead to be sure you have all the supplies you need. But trust me, it will all be worth it when you bite into a warm German soft pretzel fresh out of the oven – something that doesn’t come easy without a transatlantic flight!

A few notes on some special ingredients and kitchen items you should know about in advance:

  • Food Grade Lye. You might be able to find this at a specialty store, but I just ordered it online. I used Essential Depot Food Grade Sodium Hydroxide Lye. If cooking with lye freaks you out (yes, we know it is also used for soap and clearing clogged drains), then you can also do this with baking soda. Personally, I don’t think they come out as well, and the LA Times apparently agrees with me — that brown crusty goodness that tastes like Swabia or Bavaria just isn’t the same when you use baking soda. This is my biggest complaint with most soft pretzels sold in the States. But a few baking soda enthusiasts have posted their thoughts along with instructions on this discussion board debating lye v. baking soda (if you’d like to do your own comparison). The most important thing is that you are comfortable with what you choose to do.
  • If you do use lye, you need to exercise a lot of caution and some common sense! Keep it out of the reach of children. Make sure your kitchen is well-ventilated. Open a window or turn on the ventilation fan over your stove if you have one. Add the lye to the boiling water very slowly and carefully. I thought I did a pretty good job, but I still had to run my hands under cool water to rinse off the lye from the steam and little splashes that tickled my hands as I was adding the lye to the water. Also, avoid putting your face (eyes, nasal passages) in the steam from the boiling water or the oven. Duh, right? But it’s really easy to forget when you’re eager to see how your creation is coming along! Just ask my boyfriend, who had to holler, “Watch out for the lye steam!” as I opened the oven, poised to stick my head inside to see my beautiful brown pretzels. And when you’re done, dump your lye water (slowly so it doesn’t splash) into the toilet, which will save you from having to rinse your kitchen sink extra-well to make sure the lye doesn’t linger.
  • Stainless Steel Stock Pot – 6 Qt. Minimum. This is for the lye bath in which you will boil your pretzels before baking them. Do not use aluminum! And the lye bath can discolor the inside of your pot, so make sure you’re cool with that.
  • Flat Slotted Pretzellifter. Germans like to smoosh words together to create a new word that perfectly describes what they mean. Thus, I give you: Pretzellifter (here are some other fun ones.) It can be a largish slotted spatula, a flattish slotted spoon/skimmer; preferably stainless steel (again, no aluminum!) or heavy-duty plastic that won’t be affected by the lye bath. Avoid using a mesh ladle – your dough will get caught in it. I used a spatula, but I think a skimmer would have worked slightly better.

OK, if you have all that, you should be ready to start!

Once you make the dough, let it rise and knead it a little more.  Then cut the dough into about 12 tennis-ball sized pieces and roll out your pretzels. This part is fun! But … don’t have too much fun. There’s a happy medium between playing with the dough enough to get a good pretzel shape and overdoing it so much that it won’t roll out at all.

(P.S. – now is a good time to start heating the water and preheating the oven!)

How to roll a pretzel, you ask? Work your dough ball into a bratwurst-size shape, turning the outside of the dough (it gets a little skin on it) into the center so it’s all the same consistency. Then roll it back and forth on a lightly floured surface starting near the middle – but avoid rolling the middle itself, because you want to preserve the nice fat pretzel “belly” – and work your hands away from each other while rolling back and forth until you get ropes with thinner ends and a bigger middle. If you let the belly roll back and forth as your hands move outward, it will pull on the dough and help you get the ends thinner.

Once you have a 20- to 24-inch rope (give or take), pull the ends up, twist them around each other, then place the ends on either side of the belly and give them a gentle press. If the dough doesn’t seem to stick, dip the tip of your finger in water and use that like a glue.

When all your pretzels are rolled and shaped, it’s bath time! Carefully and slowly add the lye (just a little bit at a time!) to the boiling water. Once the bath is ready, drop 1 to 2 pretzels in (whatever will fit in the width of the pot without touching the other). Use your Pretzellifter to gently push down and make sure the entire pretzel is submerged in the bath (alternating if you have more than one in the bath). Leave in for 20 to 30 seconds or until you see a yellowish film forming all over the pretzel. Then use the Pretzellifter to lift the pretzel out of the water. Drop it on your greased and parchment-papered cookie sheets. Then, just before you stick them in the oven, take a large, sharp knife and make a thin, shallow slice across the length of the belly of all the pretzels (this is what makes that nice white dough pop through from underneath). Bake for 8 to 10 minutes or until yummy brown.

When they come out of the oven, carefully place them on a cooling rack (leave on parchment paper for a minute or two if they are too hot to pull off the paper).

Although traditionally sliced in half and buttered, I love my pretzels with a variety of accoutrement: honey, rosehip jelly and even cream cheese.

German Soft Pretzels
Recipe courtesy of Katie Strunk

For the dough:
3 1/8 cups milk
5 tablespoons butter
2 teaspoons salt
2 packages yeast (7 grams or 1/4 ounces)
8 cups flour

For the lye bath:
8 tablespoons food-grade lye

Supplies:
2 greased cookie sheets and parchment paper
Stockpot
Pretzellifter

Melt butter and milk in large measuring cup or glass bowl in the microwave. Let cool to lukewarm, then add yeast and salt. Give yeast a minute or two to activate.

Put 2 cups flour into a large 12-inch metal mixing bowl. Alternate mixing in the milk mixture and flour with a wooden spoon (will still be slightly sticky). By the time the dough is firm, you should still have a little flour left (1/2 to 1 cup, maybe).

Put dough on countertop and knead in remaining flour until dough is smooth and firm.

Rinse the metal bowl and grease with butter (if you still have the stub of the butter stick, that works well!). Put dough in bowl, cover and let rise until double (takes about an hour or so).

After dough has risen, punch down and knead a little more. Take a large, sharp knife and cut the dough in half, then each section in half again, and then those sections into thirds. Roll them out into ropes and shape into pretzels, as described above.

Preheat oven to 475. Grease two cookie sheets and line the bottoms with parchment paper.

Fill stainless steel pot (do not use aluminum) with roughly 4 quarts of water. Make sure area is well ventilated (now is a good time to revisit my lye bath tips above!). Bring to boil and VERY SLOWLY add 8 tablespoons lye. ***UPDATE: As Jody of Old Pueblo Pretzels — one of our awesome Eaters — points out: “You never never ever add lye to boiling water! Add the lye to cool water and stir until the lye is dissolved and the water is not cloudy. Then you can heat the solution to just below a boil and turn heat down to medium low for dipping pretzels.” Or, skip the lye altogether.* Or just read more (and more) about it that we printed here.*** Give the pretzels a bath, drop them on the cookie sheets, slice the belly of the pretzels with a knife and bake in oven for 8 to 10 mintues.

Remove from sheet and place on wire rack to cool. Makes about 12.

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Painting The Pumpkins White

As I think about our post this week, what comes to mind in regard to pumpkins is Cinderella. My coach, or rather this post, has turned into one great big fat orange gourd.

You see, on October 19th, I married my Price Charming. And in the wake of all the wedding planning festivities, finding time to COOK, let alone EAT, was not on my to-do list. If you have ever planned a wedding, you know exactly what I’m talking about. If not, the best advice I can muster is summed up in one word: elope.

That is not to say it wasn’t perfect, because it was — in every possible way. Adam and I (yes, kids, I married another Eater!) were surrounded by love and laughter with all of our friends and family sporting grins as large as ours. It was absolutely magical. It was just a lot of work to make sure every detail was spot on. And as anyone who knows me will surely attest, I’m obsessed with the details.

That’s precisely how we found ourselves painting gorgeous sage green pumpkins and grand orange ones white two nights before the wedding. I simply adore fall, and nothing spells that time of year for me more that p-u-m-p-k-i-n-s. I love them, and decided to make them a focal point of the big event. As such, in my OCD mind, they needed to flow perfectly with the bed of moss on which they’d rest at our guest tables, and contrast “just so” with the bright green McIntosh apples spilling out of our vintage apple crates.

So we painted them. Or, rather, my dear friend Courtney did. It really does take a village, and with this wedding, a kingdom. God bless my friends and family for pulling it all together. It could not have been more wonderful.

I digress.

Pumpkins. Honestly, it wasn’t just the wedding that got in my way with writing, but the number of options one could select with this theme. Aside from the dozens of sweet options that are already staples in my kitchen this time of year — like pumpkin cheesecake and pumpkin pie fudge (yes, really … and people LOVE it) … there were just so many savory pumpkin recipes I wanted to try. I’ll take you on a brief tour.

There was the Pumpkin-Acorn Squash Soup or Spicy Roasted Chili Peanuts and Pepitas I found here. Or check out this upscale version of pumpkin soup, classed up with some creole lobster (though this Indian-inspired version is more April’s style) And this recipe for Winter Squash and Gruyere Gratin just made my heart go pitter-pat (I’m pretty sure this bacon number would make Sarah’s heart skip a beat.). The point is, whether it is a simple salad or a fancy (ready fussy) souffle, with pumpkin, you just can’t go wrong.

Now, back to my regularly scheduled program — the honeymoon!

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photo credit to Aaron Otis Photography 2014


July
Watermelon is the perfect summer food. It hydrates, it cools, it's sweet and juicy. We have some great ideas for your table, including a salad, ceviche cups, popsicles and cocktails. Get ready to beat the heat with us!